


Feral

by DirtyKnots



Series: Kinktober 2017 [28]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Come Inflation, Derek Hale Bites Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Chris Argent - Freeform, Derek Hale/Isaac Lahey - Freeform, Derek Hale/Peter Hale - Freeform, Derek Hale/Scott McCall - Freeform, Derek Hale/Sheriff Stilinski - Freeform, Exhibitionism, Extremely Dubious Consent, Feral Behavior, Forced Orgasm, Forced Voyeurism, Implied Mpreg, Incest, Knotting, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Rimming, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Uncle/Nephew Incest, Voyeurism, incestuous themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-23 01:31:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17070923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/pseuds/DirtyKnots
Summary: Kinktober 2017 - Day 28: XenophiliaPrompt: marino-kun said: Can i ask Derek going Feral alpha Wolf and in order to came back human, he has to fuck and knot every member of the pack (that could include peter, Parrish, sheriff and Chris).? Also maybe some scent marking with piss and cum?There's no watersports here, but I hope it's enjoyable anyhow!





	1. Peter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnotherSigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherSigh/gifts).



> I generally don't post warning notes because that's what tags are for, but in this case (and especially because I don't typically write things that are verging on complete non-con), I wanted to provide some for y'all.
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> 1\. As noted above, this is a case where people have sex for reasons other than wanting to have sex. Everyone consents, but the consent is definitely given under coercive distress. Given other options, most of the characters probably would not have had sex with Derek. Take care of yourselves people, don't read this if that may trigger you.
> 
> 2\. Stiles was not asked permission before being turned. While he ends up being okay with it (as much as you will see), this was still not consensual. Again, please take care of yourself and do not read this if that will trigger you.
> 
> 3\. On the Incestuous Themes tag: Stiles is forced to watch his father and Derek have sex - he gets turned on during. His father is later forced to watch him and Derek have sex - we do not see John's thoughts on this.

They hadn't done the proper amount of research, is the thing. They'd all looked into how werewolf pregnancy worked, sure, but they failed to realize that if the alpha didn't have a cub of his own before the pack started reproducing, well…turns out alpha ruts are a thing. A thing they didn't know about but should have. Stiles blames himself. And also Peter for taking away the alpha they should've had. The one who knew these things.

Derek had tried to help, at the beginning, when his instincts first started going haywire. He'd been lucid for good stretches, had helped research. He was the one who found the solution, but he'd rejected it. Said there must be another way. Unfortunately, his lucid days were gone now. He was currently chained up and caged in the basement because his instincts had finally overridden his humanity. Stiles had gotten an agreement out of him before that, at least, but they were still sitting here. Discussing. 

“Enough. It's the only answer we've been able to find and it's the one we have to go with.” His voice is sharp enough to make the others finally shut up and listen. He can see that they want to argue, to keep searching, but they've already let it go on too long, Derek will be lost to them if they wait any more. “I'll go first.”

“Stiles, you can't -” Scott tries to grab his shoulder but Stiles shrugs out of his grip.

“You volunteering? Yeah, didn't think so.” He moves towards the basement door, grabbing the bag of supplies he'd bought when he realized there wasn't another choice. The plastic bag rustles as he moves but before he can get very far, it's being yanked out of his hands. “What the fuck? Peter, give it back.”

“No. Scott's right. You can't be the first.” He holds the bag out of Stiles’ reach when he tries to snatch it back. “He's too feral. He'll hurt you without meaning to. It has to be one of us first, a werewolf.” Stiles searches his face but doesn't find any deception, then turns to scan the faces of the others. Scott won't meet his gaze and Isaac is flushed, looking terrified. 

“I'm not really seeing an option for that here. So I'll take my chances.” He tries for the bag again, but Peter's too fast for him. 

“I'll go.”

“You? Yeah, I don't think so. You killed Laura. I won't give you a chance to kill Derek too. You think I'd trust you alone with him?”

“Of course not. I fully expect you to watch.” Peter's smirk is just this side of dirty and Stiles startles, because he hadn't been expecting that. At all. He'd thought Peter was bluffing about actually being willing to do this, had thought it was a ploy, using their desperation against them to take Derek out. He's so shocked he doesn't even realize Peter's turned back to the others until he speaks again.

“Chris, I'm sure you've got a gun with wolfsbane bullets. Pass it over to Stiles, insurance for him.” Everyone looks as shocked as Stiles feels, and he takes the proffered gun on autopilot. Peter opens the door to the basement and the sounds of a feral alpha come flooding back up the stairs, snarls and growls and low keening noises. He's still rebooting as he follows behind, closing the door after them. Despite the noises Derek is making, the rustling of the bag as it's set to the side seem loud.

“I appreciate your foresight, going to the store. Wholly unnecessary for me - like you, I expected we'd have to do this sooner or later.” Peter's stripping just out of reach from the cage, and it's easier to watch him than to look at Derek - half shifted, naked, faint lines of red all across his skin from where he'd been clawing at himself. The chains seem to be holding up, when Stiles does flick a glance at them, the bars to the cage undamaged. “Break the ash Stiles. I can't get in otherwise.”

Stiles refocuses on Peter, unable to stop the blush on his cheeks when he finds the man standing there unashamed, naked and hard. Stiles steps just close enough to smudge the toe of his shoe through the line, flinching back when Derek roars.

“Excellent. Now then, you might want to take the safety off of the gun, just in case.” Peter winks before turning to face the cage, stepping closer to it. When he's still just far enough out of reach, he bends forward a little and Stiles sees a flash of black between his cheeks. Then the man is reaching between them, wiggling the plastic and popping it free with a wet squelch. He drops it to the floor, uncaring, and unlatches the cage door.

Derek, for his part, has gone mostly silent, nose twitching as he scents the air. Stiles chances a better glance and finds Derek's cock is hard, swinging as he starts to pace along the back wall, eyes fixed on Peter. Stiles raises the gun, just in case. There's a breathless moment when Peter finally opens the door and steps inside, and then everything is happening at once. Derek snarls and charges, Peter snarls back, falls into the beta shift, and there's a blur of motion, Stiles trying to track it with the gun and failing. He thinks Peter has tricked him after all when suddenly there's a high pitched whine and they slow down.

Peter is pinned to the floor on his belly, Derek's teeth sunk into the side of his neck. It's not a killing move though, not if the way Peter is laughing is any indication. He can see Derek's hips shifting, hear the keening he's starting to emit, and watches, enthralled, as Peter heaves himself upwards until his ass is in the air, shoulders pressing into the concrete.

“Just hang on nephew, I've got you.” Peter reaches behind himself, spreads his cheeks, and Derek rumbles out his approval to the sound of Peter's gasp as his rutting finally pays off, his cock sliding home inside of his uncle in one strong thrust. “Fuck! Yes, just there. Yes Derek.” 

It's hard and fast after that, Derek's teeth never leaving Peter's neck as he rabbits his hips, fucking him hard. There's a trickle of blood sliding down Peter's clavicle and Stiles spares a moment to be grateful Peter stepped in. He's right, even with prep, Stiles’ body couldn't have taken the frantic pounding. It goes on for an eternity and for a second. Sometime during, Stiles’ arm drops, thumb flicking the safety back on. He tries to focus on the brutality of it, tries to will away the tingle of arousal in his gut. He shouldn't find this hot. He shouldn't, but he does, on some deep dark level. There's no mistaking that Peter is enjoying it, not with the way he's moaning, his elbow rocking as he jacks himself off. Derek's hips don't stutter to a halt until there's the unmistakable splatter of Peter's come painting the floor beneath him. 

Stiles can't help the burn beginning in his belly, but he does his best to ignore it, especially when Peter looks up and meets his gaze. The man smirks as he slides himself forward when Derek releases his hips. There's a growl rumbling steadily from Derek's throat and a quick glance down shows his cock is still hard and angry, balls swaying slightly still, full and round. 

“Well, I gave it my best. Seems I'm not enough to sate the hunger.” Peter's brow quirks up, smug expression on his face as he rises. He takes a half step towards Stiles, but changes course when Derek's growl gets deeper, keeping to tell other side of the basement as he moves to gather his clothes. He shifts to the side when he reaches the stairs, making room for Isaac before slipping past him and moving upwards, voice echoing back down the stairwell. “Stiles has brought lube, if you need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on [DreamWidth](https://dirtyknots.dreamwidth.org/), all of my additional contact information can be found there or on my [Profile Page](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/profile) here (including where you can leave me prompts of your own)!


	2. Isaac and Scott

Derek is patiently remaining in place as Isaac moves further into the basement. Stiles can see how red the other boy's face is, and he takes a shuddery breath before turning to address him, hoping Derek stays put.

“I...uh...there's stuff, in the bag.” Stiles gestures but Isaac shakes his head.

“S'okay, we took care of it already.” Isaac's voice is quiet and he doesn't look at Stiles as he speaks. Before Stiles can ask who 'we’ is, there's a clatter on the stairs and then Scott is tumbling out of the archway, face flushed. He doesn't look at Stiles either, just steps forward and squeezes the back of Isaac's neck. 

“We thought it might be easier...uh...together.” Scott's voice only waivers a little and then he and Isaac are curling into one another and Stiles has to look away. He'd suspected, a little, but it's different being faced with it, with the soft intimacy as they undress and caress one another.

“For what it's worth, I'm sorry. That you have to-” 

“It's okay, it'll be okay. He's our alpha, we want to help him.” It's Scott who speaks and Stiles is oddly warmed by him finally acknowledging Derek as his alpha. Scott goes first, baring his neck and belly to Derek's warning growls. Stiles watches from the corner of his eye at first, but when Derek flips Scott to his belly and mounts, he can't help but face them fully. He tells himself it's so that he can use the gun if he must, but the burning in his belly is back, giving up the lie in his own head. Isaac stands across from them, his eyes fixed to Derek and Scott, one hand slowly stroking himself as he watches Derek pound away. Scott's gaze is similarly stuck, and Stiles can see the way he's pumping himself under Derek's heavy thrusts. It's over for him quicker than it was with Peter, and Derek lets out an unsatisfied grunt as Scott scoots away, Isaac sliding in to replace him. 

Scott doesn't move to the opposite wall, stays kneeling in front of Isaac, cradling his face as Derek drives in behind him. When Isaac begins to soften, Scott crouches further, draws him into a kiss. Stiles watches as Scott's hand slides down Isaac's chest, moving towards his belly, lower, and looks away before he reaches his destination. It's weirdly intimate, given the circumstances, and it makes him uncomfortable to be a witness to it. At least his own arousal has been banked again. He tries his hardest to tune out the slick sounds of skin on skin, only paying attention again when there's another gasp and splatter, followed by Derek's resumed growls. 

By the time Stiles turns back, Isaac and Scott are both standing, backs to him as they dress. He can hear murmurs as they whisper back and forth, but he doesn't even try to eavesdrop. He focuses on Derek instead, on the deep red of his eyes, the heaving of his chest, the glistening of sweat on his soon. And, of course, on the angry purple-red of his cock, the steady leaking precome, the way it almost seems to throb.

“We'll send someone else down.” It's Isaac who speaks finally, his voice soft. He's glanced over his shoulder and matches Stiles’ nod before leading Scott back up the staircase. For the first time since finding the solution, Stiles starts to worry again. They've got no other werewolves left to try and sate the alpha's need to breed. Mounting his pack should be enough, even without knocking one of them up...but they're nearly out of eligible packmates. Stiles is lost in his thoughts, doesn't register someone else entering the basement until Derek's growls turn to snarls.

“Well, this doesn't bode well.” Chris has to nearly shout to be heard over the racket Derek is making.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on [DreamWidth](https://dirtyknots.dreamwidth.org/), all of my additional contact information can be found there or on my [Profile Page](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/profile) here (including where you can leave me prompts of your own)!


	3. Chris and John

Derek is snarling and pacing in his corner, unaware thankfully that the mountain ash line that had kept him trapped was broken. It's probably the only reason he hasn't launched himself at Chris yet.

“Chris, I don't think-”

“It'll be fine. It has to.” Chris levels him with a look before he begins stripping quickly and efficiently, turning with his arms up onces he's naked, trying to show Derek that he's unarmed.

“Yeah, the wolf kinda doesn't get human things like 'I come in peace.’” Derek's snarls haven't slowed, but he has started shifting forward. Cautiously. Like he knows there's a limit before the barrier. Which no longer exists. Stiles worries about what will happen when he realizes its gone. “Chris.”

He gets a firm look in reply and he mutters to himself because clearly there's no stopping the hunter. Stiles watches, nervous and curious, as Chris keeps moving toward Derek, head tilted to show his neck, arms wafting out strangely from his body. He must catch the question in Stiles’ eyes because he smiles without humor.

“Don't ask, I can promise you don't want to know. Suffice it to say, I don't actually smell like myself right now - which will help when he stops relying on his eyes only.”

Stiles readies the gun just in case.

And lowers it a minute later when Derek's nose twitches and the snarls stop. Chris keeps moving until his neck is under Derek's nose, letting Derek scent him. Derek snuffles along his throat, down his clavicle, and across his exposed belly. When he drags his tongue across it, Chris and Stiles both gasp. He won't lie to himself, he's maybe had a fantasy or two that involved these two, though with himself in the middle of them. He tries to tell his own cock to calm down. 

Derek's nose gets to Chris’ groin and the growling picks up, his lip curling back to reveal his fangs. Stiles worried but instead of getting violent…well, more violent anyhow, Derek just grips Chris’ hips in his clawed hands and spins the man around, shoving him to all fours and mounting him. Stiles really hopes Chris took care of his own prep like the others because Derek drives in without any hesitation. He's crouched above Chris, drilling into him, snarling against the back of his neck. Stiles can see fangs, but Derek doesn't pierce the skin, just indents it as he holds Chris still. 

Stiles watches as Chris reaches for his cock but is stopped by Derek biting down a little harder, hands leaving Chris’ hips to grab his wrists. Stiles can see the puckering of Chris’ skin from where he's at, and he'd be more concerned if it didn't make Chris let out a low moan. The sound gets louder when Derek changes his angle slightly, and Chris starts rocking back to meet his thrusts. 

“Oh fuck, right there, yes yes. Fuck.” Chris’ voice is raspy, words punctuated by gasps. Stiles doesn't even pretend he's not watching, not staring at the way Chris’ cock is bouncing against his abs - surprisingly taut for a man his age - smearing precome all over them. He doesn't stop himself from cupping his erection through his pants, teasing the head of his cock, for once grateful at the way the layers of cloth dampen the sensation. He figures he needs to be ready, he's the last hope if nothing changes when Derek finishes with Chris. 

Stiles almost misses the way Derek unlatches, mouth traveling over Chris’ shoulder and settling near his ear. He might have missed it entirely if Chris doesn't suddenly nod, murmuring out something, face tipped towards Derek's. It makes him realize that the growling had stopped. He feels...oddly disappointed, because if Derek is speaking, then maybe this is finally working. Which should be good, except for how it's not, because Stiles is...hard. And leaking. And he, apparently, really wants to trade places with Chris. Now that he's focused somewhere other than their genitals, he can see the flex of Derek's throat as he, presumably, whispers in Chris' ear, and he stops stroking himself. It's only natural that, given his focus had shifted, he misses the way Derek wraps a called hand carefully around Chris’ cock, stroking in time to his thrusts. 

“Ah, fuck, yes. Claws!” The shout startles Stiles and he glances back down, sees the head of Chris’ cock peeking out of Derek's approximation of a fist, claws carefully tipped away from the sensitive skin. Derek gives one more stroke and Chris’ slit begins to pulse out his release, creamy white bubbling over Derek's knuckles and down his wrist. Derek squeezes and strokes until he stops coming, and then pulls out. Stiles expects to see a wash of come follow his cock as it slips free but aside from a few tacky strings of pre and the glistening of lube, it's as hard and unsatisfied as before. He's distracted, again, and doesn't hear the squeak of familiar shoes on the stairs. 

“Still?” Stiles spins at the sound of his father's voice. He maybe stops breathing or being able to hear for a minute because his father is stripped down to his undershirt and boxers and is talking to Chris like nothing out of the ordinary is happening.

“Yes. Though I'd say some of the edge is wearing off, he did speak to me just a bit.” For all that Chris is naked and has clearly just been fucked, he didn't seem uncomfortable about it until he mentions Derek speaking. Even so, the weird look on his face is directed at Stiles, not at John, and it's gone from his face by the time he turns back to face the sheriff. “I'll leave you to it.” He passes John, squeezing his shoulder briefly before retrieving his clothes and returning up the stairs. 

“Dad…” Stiles really doesn't know what to say or do here. And his father is no help because he just shakes his head and begins to strip off his shirt. Stiles turns his back, tries to give his father as much privacy as he can. Awkward doesn't even begin to cover how he's feeling at the moment. The basement is quieter than it's been since Stiles first came down here, their combined breathing and the soft susurrations of John's clothes sliding over and off skin. Stiles starts to edge away, towards the stairs, but a sharp growl from Derek has him freezing. When it keeps up, he turns to glance at the wolf and finds red eyes fixed on him, lips pulled back in a snarls.

“Okay, I'll stay. Calm down.” There's another growl but Stiles moves back to where he'd been and he can see Derek's posture relax. He's still resolutely ignoring the part of the room containing his father, so when he sees the edge of John's shape from the corner of his eye, he begins to turn away again, only to be stopped by another loud growl from Derek.

“Seriously? What the fuck man?” He closes his eyes and the growl becomes a snarl, and he gives up, huffing out an irritated sigh as he gives in and fully faces the middle of the room. As soon as he's paying attention, Derek stops making noises. In fact, if Stiles is right, it almost looks like he begins to pretend, chest puffing out and standing more erect than he had been all day. It puts his cock on full display, jutting out thick and proud and nearly purple from how hard he's been for so long. Stiles licks his lips unconsciously. 

He tries to remember that it's his father walking over to Derek, tries to remind his body of that when his own cock twitches in his pants at the sight of John dropping to the ground at Derek's feet, presenting his ass to the alpha. It's really difficult though, so difficult when he can see the shiny pink pucker of his father's hole, lightly dusted with blond hairs, can see the wet gleam of more than enough lube. When he redirects his gaze, Derek is watching him, something dark and unfathomable in his expression.

When he drops to his own knees, he doesn't drive in right away, instead using his clawed hands to carefully spread John's cheeks apart further, tilting the man's hips to give Stiles a better view. If it makes Stiles’ breath catch...well, only he and Derek can hear it. Derek seems so much more aware now, positions his body so that Stiles can watch the way he lines his cock up, the head barely teasing at John's pucker, pushing in slightly before pulling back. Stiles can feel himself leaking in his pants at the absolute hot wrongness of watching as his own father is about to be fucked. Derek smirks around his fangs as he finally pushes in, holding himself steady once his balls slap the back of John's thighs. 

Stiles watches and waits, but nothing else happens. Even John seems confused, glancing back over his shoulder to squint at Derek. The movement shifts him off Derek's cock a little and the alpha rumbles in approval. “Oh.” Stiles realizes what Derek wants then. His father slides back a bit as he shifts to look over his other shoulder at Stiles and the pleased noise Derek makes confirms Stiles’ suspicion.

“What does that mean? 'Oh’ what?” And fuck his life that he has to explain it to his father.

“Uh.” Stiles clears his throat and tries again after he barely gets that out. “He - uh - he wants you to fuckyourselfonhiscock.” He rushes through the words, half-mumbling.

“What?”

“He wants you to. Fuck yourself. On his cock.” It's halting, but Stiles manages to get it all out. Good job Stiles. He should pat himself on the back really. Except that's not what he wants to be doing with his hand right now. He's ashamed sat himself for how much he's enjoying the display, the glistening of his father's lubed up hole, the way it's stretched open around Derek's fat cock. He feels rock hard in his jeans as his father begins to move back and forth, his hole gripping Derek's cock as it drags out of him. Derek rumbles in approval, holding himself still and staring at Stiles. 

He tries his hardest to ignore the sounds, the groans rumbling from his father when Derek finally does shift as John is pushing back, his cock hitting at just the right angle. Stiles tries to not let it get to him, the sudden whimper of pleasure, the way his father speeds up his movements, rocking back hard enough that Derek's balls slap into his every time he takes the alpha in all the way. He tries, but he doesn't succeed, his own cock leaking enough to make the inside of his boxer-briefs feel tacky and wet.

Derek's smug expression gets even more self-satisfied after several more minutes, his nostrils flaring and a pleased rumble rolling out of him. It's followed almost immediately by the unmistakable splatter of come on the concrete, his father letting out a punched out groan as he slams back one last time. Stiles can see the way his hole is clenching around Derek's girth, like he's trying to milk Derek's cock, except he can tell that there's nothing to milk. Five packmates down and Derek still hasn't come. His father stays still for longer than any of the others, head hanging between his shoulders as he pants. 

“I'm sorry son, I tried.” John's voice is rough, fucked out sounding, and Stiles pretends it doesn't make his cock twitch.

“It's okay, dad.” His own voice is low and thick, and he can't hide the arousal in it. When he glances back at Derek's face, the man seems a little more lucid, but still not cured. There's a hint of wildness left and Stiles does what a part of him always knew he'd have to do. He begins to strip off his clothes as his father crawls away, not looking at him. Derek leans forward, whispers something into John's ear before he gets too far, and Stiles watches his father's shoulders raise as he sighs and nods, and then his view is lost as he pulls his own shirt over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on [DreamWidth](https://dirtyknots.dreamwidth.org/), all of my additional contact information can be found there or on my [Profile Page](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/profile) here (including where you can leave me prompts of your own)!


	4. Stiles

After Stiles’ shirt clears his face, he focuses back on Derek, finding it easier than the thought of watching his father get dressed. He's surprised to see Derek staring back, one hand stroking his cock. His claws seem to have disappeared and Stiles is relieved. The fangs are still there, the red eyes and odd lack of eyebrows. Stiles watches the glide of Derek's hand as he undoes his pants and wriggles out of them, stripping his sticky underwear off with them. He nearly stumbles when he forgets his shoes are on, but he recovers and only flushes slightly in embarrassment. 

When he's as bare as Derek, he turns to the bag he'd bought, bending down to retrieve the bottle of lube. Unlike the others, he hadn't had a chance to open himself up. He can feel the way his cheeks spread as he's bent and doesn't miss the hungry sound Derek lets out. It makes him flush as he snatches up the bottle and straightens. He looks around the basement when he turns back, ignoring Derek for the first time since coming down here, as he tries to sort out where he can sit or lay to open himself up. The basement comes up severely lacking and he's about to resign himself to sitting on cold concrete. 

“Come here.” Derek's voice startles him. It's rough, still not quite human, rasping around his fangs. It sets his heart thrumming harder but he walks towards the alpha anyhow. He can feel his heart hammering by the time he's in front of Derek, but he also knows his arousal hasn't really waned. Derek is still slowly stroking himself and Stiles’ eyes track down to watch, helpless. He doesn't resist when Derek's free hand reaches up and relieves him of the lube.

“Hands. Knees.” Derek may be speaking but he's still barely verbal. Stiles resists the urge to be defiant just on principle, instead carefully dropping to his knees and turning to give Derek his ass as he settles his hands against the floor. That's when he realizes his father had never left, had barely tugged on his pants, the zipper still undone.

“Dad, what-” John nods his head towards Derek and Stiles makes to sit up on his knees, especially when he hears the sounds of people on the stairs. Stiles’ breathing picks up as he watches the others come into the basement, none of them fully dressed yet. Peter's the last one through and he's as naked as he was when he left the basement earlier, leaving Stiles to wonder if he'd just been standing upstairs like that, making everyone uncomfortable. Before he can ask, Peter speaks.

“Sorry about this,” he doesn't sound remotely sorry and Stiles snorts at the obvious lie, “Derek insisted though.” Peter's face is the perfect picture of mock innocence, not at all convincing. The others at least have the grace to look uncomfortable at having to be there, Isaac and Scott both red in the face and fidgeting, casting glances at John and Chris.

Stiles is about to retort when Derek's warm palms grasp his cheeks and spread them apart. Stiles’ head drops, his cock twitching. He can feel his hole clenching in the open air, feels more exposed than he did just a few minutes ago. He can't stop the gasp he lets out when there's a gust of warm air across him followed immediately by the wet rasp of Derek's tongue, laving from just behind his balls to the top of his ass, making his rim clench as it passes over. It happens again and again, spit sliding down his crack after each pass. 

“Fuck!” The shout can't be contained when Derek switches it up, latches his mouth onto Stiles’ rim and sucks. He doesn't know if he wants to pull away or rock back into it. Although what he wants doesn't seem to matter. Derek grips Stiles’ cheeks harder, uses them to pull Stiles against his face tighter, and keeps up the attention. Instead of going back to the licks, he keeps his mouth pressed over Stiles’ hole, tongue flicking against the rim in an off pattern that Stiles can't adjust to. The urge to pull away diminishes rapidly, and Stiles finds himself grinding backwards, trying to get more, deeper.

He can feel the rough scrape of Derek's stubble between his cheeks, knows sitting is going to be uncomfortable for awhile, but he doesn't care. When Derek spears his tongue and presses past Stiles’ rim, he moans out again, precome pooling beneath him. He almost doesn't realize it's happening when Derek wriggles a finger in alongside his tongue, is too lost in how good everything feels. It's only when it breaches deeper, begins rubbing at his prostate, that he acknowledges it. He does his best to relax when he can feel a second finger pressing against his rim, bears down when it begins to push in. Derek's tongue never stops moving, fucking in and out of him, and by the time he begins to spread his fingers apart to stretch Stiles, he's relaxed again.

Stiles loses track of time, everything boiled down to the sounds Derek's fingers and tongue opening him up, his own harsh pants. The snick of the lube opening is loud, the liquid cool on his overheated hole when Derek drizzles it down. Derek's less careful when he adds a third finger, having already spread him wider, and Stiles lets out a punched out groan at the new fullness. Derek doesn't spend long twisting and stretching them before Stiles can feel his pinky beginning to push against his rim, seeking entrance.

“S'too much.” His words are slurred but he tries to pull away, certain nothing more can fit. Derek growls against his ass, his other hand tightening on Stiles’ cheek to keep him in place. His tongue flicks between his fingers and he drives his pinky in when Stiles exhales. The stretch makes him shout but it doesn't hurt as much as he'd expected, is a barely there burn as his body tries to accommodate it all. Derek keeps his hand still, just holding his fingers in place, though his tongue keeps working in and around them.

Derek waits until Stiles relaxes, not even having realized he'd tensed up. He thrusts his fingers shallowly, taking more care than Stiles expected, letting him shift and adjust. He doesn't do much spreading, doesn't need to in order to twist and thrust his fingers. There's a brief moment where Stiles worries that he's going to try to push farther, get his whole hand in there, but Derek never goes deep enough for that. Instead, he gives some faster thrusts before slipping his fingers free, making Stiles whine at the loss. His hole feels loose, and without the distraction of Derek's fingers and tongue, he tunes back into the room, remembers they're not alone. He can't look at the pack, can't bring himself to, but he can hear their breaths, can hear the way they're shifting around as they watch. He's also pretty sure he can hear the slick sounds of one of them jacking off slowly, teasingly. He doesn't have to look to know who it is.

It ceases to matter entirely when he feels the blunt head of Derek's cock sliding up his cleft. Stiles unconsciously pushes back when it catches briefly on his rim, lowering to his elbows and thrusting his ass backwards, seeking. He can hear the dark chuckle Derek lets out.

“Eager pup.” Stiles shudders at Derek's low tone. Derek keeps dragging his cock between Stiles’ cheeks, the lube and wet drip of his precome slicking the way. 

“Please.” He speaks without meaning to, and it earns him another laugh and the meat slap of Derek's cockhead against his hole. Before he can say anything else, though, Derek gives him what he wants, drawing back enough to push the tip against Stiles’ rim, pressing forward just enough to pop the head in completely.

Stiles can't stop the way he clenches down on it, the girth not as much as Derek's fingers had been, missing the fullness. Derek rumbles out a noise of pleasure when he does it so he relaxes his hole and does it again. And again. And again. It's not enough and he tries to rock back further, take more, but Derek growls and grabs his hips to still him. 

“Needy. Wait.” Derek pulls his own hips back, his cock popping free. Stiles whines and Derek squeezes his hip again before pushing back in, letting the head breach his rim completely before yanking it back out with more force. Stiles moans at the dragging feel of it, shudders as Derek repeats the action over and over, pushing further inside each time until he finally slams in hard to the hilt, making Stiles’ back arch at the sudden pressure and fullness. 

It's a lot, though not more than his fingers, and Derek waits while Stiles’ ass practically ripples around him. When Stiles starts rocking against him, Derek finally gives in, lets go, begins driving into him with force. Stiles doesn't try to stop the sounds being pounded out of him, the gasps and moans of pleasure. He's leaking copiously all over the floor by the time he starts to notice the change.

Derek's fingertips are prickling against his hips, sharp points of contact that he knows means the claws are back out, but he's less concerned about those than he is about the strange sensation every time Derek thrusts back into him. The way his cock feels like it's getting bigger every time, taking more force to completely enter him. Derek gives one more hard thrust and it feels like he swells suddenly, unable to pull back out, the back thrust yanking on Stiles’ rim.

“What...what is that?”

“Mmm. Knot. Mate. Mine.”

“What?” The answer is confusing but Derek doesn't elaborate with words. Instead he drapes himself over Stiles’ back, hips grinding his cock into Stiles, the swelling pressing against him from the inside, a new constant pressure against his prostate. Stiles swears he can feel the pulse when Derek starts to come, the swelling increasing even more until it's almost too much pressure against him, his cock twitching and spitting out his own release on the floor. As soon as he starts to come, Derek's mouth latches onto the join of his neck and shoulder. He's too far gone to feel the fangs slide in, for anything but the pressure of them and the growl Derek lets out to be anything but pleasurable.

He notices when there's a spark and fire suddenly racing through his veins. His heart thunders in his chest, his breathing gets shallow, and a growl begins to rumble from deep inside. His vision sharpens, senses suddenly going haywire, and he whines out, feels claws and fangs breaking free. Derek tries to run a soothing hand down his side, his own fangs finally retreating from Stiles’ flesh. He maybe whispers out an apology but Stiles can't be sure because he tries to twist and snap at the hand on him, only stopping when he feels the tug against his rim.

“What is happening?” The words are slurred for an entirely different reason now. Stiles should be surprised when Peter steps towards them maybe, but he's not. The man in question just smirks at the dual growls he and Derek let out, stopping out of reach, still naked, though soft again, evidence of his own release dripping down his belly.

“You really should have done more research Stiles. I had assumed you would, that you'd be prepared for this.” His voice is as smug as his expression.

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean, really, trusting me to provide you all of the information? Rookie mistake.” The rest of the pack is grumbling and growling behind him, but nobody moves because he's right. They had trusted him, and now they might need the answers he had.

“There's more to the ritual, of course. If you'd done your homework, you'd know the only thing that would appease the alpha's hunger for a whelp of his own would be to mate and make one. To breed a pup into his mate.” Derek makes a soft noise and Stiles chances a quick glance at him, doesn't see any of the wildness left in his gaze.

“But I'm a guy. I can't be bred.” Peter laughs and Derek whines and Stiles worries.

“You couldn't. Until you could. The ritual demands the alpha prove himself worthy, able to hold off in the face of anyone challenging for the position of mate. Even if the challengers don't really want the job. The true mate watches and judges the alpha worthy if he still hasn't knotted someone else.” Stiles’ eyes widen at the realization that Peter truly played him into coming down to witness Derek take each of his packmates. “And then, when the mate gives themselves over to it, he gives them the bite. For a female mate, there wouldn't be any change at all, not even if she was human. But a human male? You don't just become a wolf from it. You become something more. Something better. You'll be his perfect match, as strong, as fast, even more resilient than the alpha. And you can bear his cubs.” Stiles’ belly clenches at the truth in Peter's words, a truth he can't just see in the man's face, but hear in his heartbeat. Derek's cock pulses inside him again and he rocks back without thinking, ass rippling to milk more come from his alpha. Peter smirks.

“Even now, your body knows what it wants. What it's meant for. Congratulations Stiles, by the time Derek's knot deflates you'll be carrying a new Hale.” Derek pulses again at the words and Stiles gives up, gives in, grinding back harder, his pack watching, all of them gone quiet and still. He thinks he should be angry, furious, should be trying to get away because he'd never wanted to be a wolf, but even without his body acting on it's own, he can't deny that he wants this. Has wanted this. Well, not this exactly, but had wanted to be the one Derek chose.

Stiles doesn't resist when Derek drags him up as he lifts himself up to kneeling, Stiles’ legs spread over his lap. The change in angle shifts him deeper and Stiles doesn't stop the moan it drags out of him, grinds down into Derek's lap as his cock starts to fill from the shifting pressure. He thinks he should be concerned that he's bared to the pack, but it feels right to have their eyes on him. Derek tries to cover Stiles’ cock with his own large hands, but Stiles feels emboldened when he sees the rapt way the others are staring at them, shifts his hand to cover Derek’s.

It feels powerful to have the pack watching as Derek takes the hint, uses one hand to jack Stiles’ cock, the other moving to splay possessively over his belly. It feels right to have the pack witness his breeding. Derek’s cock has finally finished filling him, his stomach slightly distended from the sheer volume of come that’s been emptied inside of him, knot forcing him to hold it all in. Derek’s hand moves faster, his fangs slipping out to bury in Stiles’ flesh once more, and that’s what tips him over the edge again, his cock painting his belly, sending droplets flying as Derek strokes him through it. When he’s spent, his body starts to slump forward, but Derek just shifts his grip, pulls Stiles tighter into his lap, begins to whisper in his ear.

“I’d never imagined you’d be mine, not like this. You’ve taken it so well, did everything just right. You’re what I’ve always needed, gonna make the pack so strong. So happy Stiles, so happy.” He’s exhausted from it all, from watching and waiting, from the change, but he warms at the words, manages just enough to turn his head, capture Derek’s mouth in a kiss. Things aren’t fine, there’s a lot to deal with still, a lot of things that must be discussed. Especially in regards to Peter’s manipulations. But for now, he’s happy. Because he’d never thought he’d get all of this either.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [DreamWidth](https://dirtyknots.dreamwidth.org/), all of my additional contact information can be found there or on my [Profile Page](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/profile) here (including where you can leave me prompts of your own)!


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